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DEEDECK DESIGN
Chapter 6
“Where are we going?” Moira asked her escorts warily. The transfer station had confirmed that they were employed with Coltier Intergalactic Securities, but that didn’t alleviate all her concerns. These two men were still strangers after all, and they weren’t taking her where she expected to go. “I have a reservation at the Transfer Point Hotel.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the skinnier one responded, giving her a fleeting, uncomfortable glance over his shoulder. Both of her escorts seemed to find her current appearance disconcerting. Join the club, boys, she thought sourly. “But Mr. Coltier feels you’ll be safer somewhere else.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Your reservation at the hotel is public knowledge. If someone made an attempt on your life, they’ll be expecting you there.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, seeing the frightening logic in his statement. A killer might try again, if they knew where she’d be next. “So where are we going instead?”
“Mr. Coltier has made other arrangements. The place is called, uh—” He glanced down, checking his holo wrist band. “Web’s Edge.”
Moira winced. The name was a play on the arrangement of transport lines and businesses that surrounded the Beta 1 transfer space station, radiating out from its center location like a spider’s web. Most businesses jockeyed for position closest to the station, so the further out from the center, the cheaper the commerce. An establishment on the edge of the “web” did not bode well, especially one that boasted its position in its name.
“So, not a four star accommodation, then,” she said dryly.
“I’ve never been there, ma’am,” the skinny one answered in an uninflected tone. “It’s a fair guess that nobody will expect you to be there either.”
“Ah,” she sighed with glum understanding and settled back into her seat. Well, she’d been in worse places. The seediest motel in the vicinity of Beta 1 would still be a palace compared to some of the more primitive places she’d visited in the course of her job.
The cramped little transport shot through tube after tube, blazing by brightly lit hubs of commerce. Moira started to wonder if they’d just shoot right out into the dark of space, when her chunkier escort slowed the little machine and headed for a small motel with a tawdry sign and a tired-looking, well-worn structure.
“Are we sure there aren’t any hull breaches?” Moira asked with only a trace of sarcasm. “It looks a bit unsafe.”
“The place has a clean record,” the skinny one answered, but she wasn’t comforted by the undercurrent of doubt in his tone.
The pilot muttered something that sounded like a curse, and Moira clenched her jaw. “Fantastic,” she whispered, watching with a sense of dread as they slid into a grimy port with a dubious seal. If she got sucked out into the vacuum of space, she was going to be so pissed at Coltier.
“Watch the—” the first man said through his teeth.
“I got it,” the pilot growled.
The low exchange between her escorts didn’t help her comfort level either. The little transport settled and the three of them waited in tense silence for the sound of the activating seal. The hiss, thump, and chime sounded okay to Moira, but she looked at the pilot and was relieved by his sudden relaxation.
“Let’s get you settled, ma’am,” he said over his shoulder.
“I hope it’s an interior room, guys,” she responded with a warning edge. She might put up with some inconvenience to avoid a second murder attempt, but an exterior room with a compromised hull seemed like a waste of a good rescue effort.
The men had a low, hurried discussion over the check-in terminal, but when they escorted her to their destination, she was happy to see that it was indeed an interior room with no disconcerting view of space. That didn’t mean they were completely safe in the event of a catastrophic structural breach, but she’d take what she could get.
“I’ll need to contact the DDEC,” she told them as they entered the tiny space. She grimaced to see that it was barely big enough to accommodate all three of their bodies. It didn’t help that she currently inhabited a giant.
“They shouldn’t know where you are, ma’am,” the skinny one warned with a crease between his brows.
“I wasn’t planning on telling them, but they’re my employer, and I was sent to Bode for a job. I need to make provisions for a delay, maybe work on the situation remotely until I can depart for the zone.”
“The zone?”
“The affected area. I specialize in infectious diseases and I’m here in Bode to assess an outbreak for the DDEC. Weren’t you told this?”
“Yes, Dr. Bannen,” the man answered with a furtive look at his companion.
The larger fellow faced her, his thick features impassive, but his eyes were hard. “We’ll need to run any communications by the boss.”
She lifted her eyebrows, staring at him for a moment. She didn’t know what expression she had on her new face, but apparently it wasn’t pleasant, because the man began to shift uneasily, eyes flicking away from hers. It must be so strange for them to be looking at their boss, but knowing it wasn’t really him.
“Then by all means, let’s chat with Mr. Coltier,” she said with an icy smile.
He didn’t use the motel’s communications system, instead using a portable unit they’d brought with them and going through several contact points before they reached their boss. She sighed. Was paranoia contagious?
“Besh, is there a problem?”
Moira was annoyed by the tightening of her stomach at the sound of his voice. Even though she had the same vocal cords at the moment, the voice certainly sounded different coming from him, filled with smooth confidence and masculine power. It made her nervous and tense in ways she didn’t appreciate.
“No problem, sir,” the skinny one answered. “We’re at the destination and the package is safe.”
Package? “I hope you’re not referring to me,” she hissed as she nudged the man out of the way and faced the little com screen. The smaller image didn’t lessen the man’s impact, but Moira did her best to ignore it. “Mr. Coltier, while I appreciate the efforts you and your team are going through for my safety, I have to protest the accommodations.”
His eyebrows lifted and one corner of his mouth curled in what looked like cynical amusement. “Not fancy enough?”
She folded her arms across her chest, which felt bizarre with the bulky arms and flat chest, but she didn’t want to give him any more cause for amusement, so she left them folded. “Not solid enough. I don’t know about you, but I prefer not to get sucked out into space. Just a little quirk of mine.”
He ducked his head for a moment, but not before she saw that ghost of a smile flash quickly across his face again. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’ve dealt with Web’s Edge before. It just looks that way to chase away the snobs.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, certain that he was referring to her, but she changed the subject instead of responding. “I need to contact the DDEC. I still have a job to do.”
“You’re not going anywhere, especially in my clone.”
She nearly snarled at his dictatorial tone, but managed to keep her response just this side of civil. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but there are preparations I can make, especially if I can contact the zone and get an update on their status.”
“Outside contact pinpoints your location and makes you a target.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit here with Pete and RePete and twiddle my thumbs?” she snapped, unfolding her arms to plant hands on hips. That felt funny, too, so she dropped her hands to her sides and curled them into fists. “What about this com unit we’re using now? It doesn’t pinpoint my location, does it?”
He studied her for a moment, thumb rubbing on the underside of his chin. The motion made a rasping sound of nail against stubble, sending a prickle of awareness through her. Mindful of the last time she’d been too aware of this man’s attraction and the disastrous consequences, she focused on his eyes. Dark and unreadable, they were a little too speculative for her peace of mind.
“It’s routed through my security systems. Should be okay for you to use. Where’s the zone?”
“It’s a remote system. It’ll take time to get there, so any work I can do beforehand is critical.”
“Name of the system?”
“I’m not authorized to release that information.”
The corner of his mouth curled in a return to cynical humor. “Course not. Why is DeeDeck so tight-lipped about this outbreak, Doc?”
“They’re always cautious about how much information they release to the public, because they don’t want panic or interference.”
“Interference?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Civilians putting themselves at risk by entering the zone for various reasons. News hounds, private labs, concerned family and friends.”
“Hmm. You should chat with them about giving me and my team access. All they’re doing is tying my hands, making my job harder. Speaking of which, I could use your access codes right about now.”
Moira felt her lips compress with reluctance. She so didn’t want this man poking around in her private life. Not that she had anything to hide, but it would feel like giving him access to her underwear drawer.
When she didn’t answer, his mouth twitched as if he was fighting a smile. “Your skeletons can’t be that scary, Doc.”
“I don’t have any skeletons. I’m just—uncomfortable giving out personal information.”
“You’re living in my body. Can’t get much more personal than that,” he said with an unsettling glitter in his dark eyes. “Turn about is fair play, Moira.” Something in his silky smooth voice sent a zing of alarm down her spine. Or maybe it was watching his mouth shape her name, the sight and sound a little too intimate.
“Fine,” she mumbled, and sent him the codes through the com unit.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She glared at him. “Don’t push your luck, Jax.”
His answering grin was an engaging mix of mischief and charm, warming his features to the point that her heart actually did a funny little side-step in her chest. “I’ll be in touch.”
Moira stared at the blank screen. May the Void help me, that man is trouble.
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